“How kindly these good people greet us. For what reason, George? And what is the reason, Honey-Bee?”
“So they should,” said Honey-Bee.
“It’s their duty,” George added.
“But why should it be their duty?” asked the Duchess.
And as neither replied, she continued:
“I will tell you. For more than three hundred years the dukes of Clarides, from father to son, have lance in hand protected these poor people so that they could gather the harvests of the fields they had sown. For more than three hundred years all the duchesses of Clarides have spun the cloth for the poor, have visited the sick, and have held the new-born at the baptismal font. That is the reason they greet you, my children.”
George was lost in deep thought: “We must protect those who toil on the land,” and Honcy-Bee said: “One should spin for the poor.”
And thus chatting and meditating they went on their way through meadows starred with flowers. A fringe of blue mountains lay against the distant horizon. George pointed towards the east.
“Is that a great steel shield I see over there?”
“Oh no,” said Honey-Bee, “it’s a round silver clasp, as big as the moon.”